“If I have to stay behind the least I can do is help dress you, brother,” Tanda replied, handing me the end of my braid. “Hold this while I put it on your head, we can wrap it up under the wig when we pin it in place.”

She pulled the stiff thing down to my ears, and I pushed it back up, getting a slap on the hand for my efforts. I let her fiddle with the wig and fix the bow at the back of the dress, but when she went to adjust the front where my breasts were, I had had enough. I thanked her for helping, then walked in the center of the room and then turning in a circle. I started to bow at the waist, then quickly turned it into a curtsy, and the wig fell to the floor. “I sure hope that doesn’t happen at this shindig. If it does, we may be in a bit of trouble,” I laughed, picking it up.

“Trust me, Tanda will have so many pins in it that you may not be able to get the thing back off,” Derek mocked as he scratched at his head.

“Had you left yours alone, I wouldn’t have had to pin yours on,” she snapped, smiling back at me.

“Now, what do we do if the assassins show up at this gala thing?” I asked, trying to sit down in the small chair that was in front of the roll top desk at the right side of the room, getting the hoop bottom right in my face. “Why didn’t this happen when I sat down on the bed?”

“Because you must have sat to the side, which is the way one sits in a gown like this, not sloppily flat down on ones backside,” Tanda said, trying to adjust my legs.

“What on earth are you doing, Tanda?”

“I am trying to show you how to be a proper lady.”

“For such a small thing, you sure are bossy.”

“See, I told you,” Derek said, pulling the wig off of his head, taking some of his own hair with it. “I think you’re letting the whole dress-up thing go to your head just a little too much.”

“Would you like to do it? I could let you dress the others, since I am to bossy and you seem to know so much more about it,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips and waiting for him to answer.

“No, I don’t want to dress everyone. I don’t even wanna dress myself.”

“Then I suggest you let me do what I have done for the last fifty years of my life, and keep your tongue to yourself.”

“I would listen, young Derek. Females that hold a govern over your heart use it to wield a large hand,” Cates said, getting to his feet. “Come woman. I wish to wear these binding contraptions no longer.”

“I like what I’m wearing and want to see Renee when Tanda’s finished with her hair,” Tammy replied. “But, no one’s stopping you.”

“What say you, young Derek? Will you join me to rid ourselves…of these monstrosities called clothing?”

“I can’t. Tanda wants to make sure this jacket’s gonna fit right,” he frowned, moving his first two fingers up and down, quoting in silence what he had already been told.

“He may have to wait for the artist,” Garvin grinned, speaking about, Tanda. “But, I do not.” Then he got up to join Cates who was already in the double wide doorway.

“I must agree,” Jacob added, standing, then stretching his arms above his head. “I too will retire from this wear.”

“You may have a seat next to Derek, Sydney. I have to find you another set of leggings,” Tanda smiled, still standing next to me, and Sydney sat back down without argument.

Chapter Twenty Two

Fala was the only one who seemed fitting in his gala attire. He was Native American Indian, and going as my personal body guard and dressed like a eunuch. The only difference between Fala and the others was that he stood proud. His black hair hung free over his dark, tanned skin and the outfit that Tanda had found him wasn’t much different than the one he was wearing when we first met him. His wrap went around his waist and down just above his knees. The color was different; it was almost the same burgundy color of my dress, only darker. His torso looked like a rippled river flowing up into the mountain of muscles on his chest. The burgundy wraps around his wrists gave just enough to catch the eye when he moved his arms, which were impressive all on their own. Fala had strong features but they were always softened when his hair hung free because the contrast of black strands with the ‘V’ shape coming down from his forehead hid the masculine square of his jaw line. He was everything like what my parents had talked about when they told stories by the fire. Stories of them and their families traveling by wagon and encountering the likes of Fala’s people, who did not like sharing their land.

Tanda was explaining that it was best that a lady did not sit at one of these functions when Jacob stepped back in the room in his cloths that were most comfortable to him; black silk, wide legged bottoms that covered his feet and wrapped tight around his waist. Jacob’s nationality was unknown to him but the slant of his dark brown eyes showed he was at least part oriental. His body structure was half the size of Fala’s but his frame was covered in the same rippling waves that, to me, were not in any waytypical for the normals in my neck of the woods. Jacob’s skin was even paler when he wore his black wear and with the same color of hair to match Fala’s and mine, he was almost porcelain. All of my younger boys were soft in their features and I believe it was due to most of them becoming breeders before their bodies had a chance to change into manhood.

I was thinking how different Jacob and Fala looked standing in the doorway when something smashed into the front door, spinning them around as if they were standing on a floor that moved them. I jumped up and knocked Tanda backwards as I tried to get to the entrance of the foyer. Sydney and Derek were out of the room before I could take another step, and Cates’ massive form darted by the opening. “Damn this dress!” I yelled, and picked the bottom up and ran. Derek and Fala stood on one side of the door while Jacob and Cates took the other. I slid around the entrance of the study across the hall and looked around as Jacob pulled the lock back. He opened the door about two inches and then flung it back with Sydney grabbing it. All of my boy’s stepped out, holding a blade, from where I had no idea, at a cloaked figure in the breezeway on the porch.

My first thought was ‘assassin’ until the figure moved, and it wasn’t like the movement of any man, other than Felicia and we had him upstairs. The figure stepped in the room as if it didn’t notice, or care, that four men had weapons ready to strike. We were all shocked to see a beautiful woman underneath. She lifted the wide hood off of her head and asked for the mistress of the house. “Who’s asking, lady,” Derek said, taking a step forward, with Jacob putting a hand on his chest. She had reddish hair, pulled back from her face and done in tight ringlets that spilled over the neck of the dark gray cloak. She was a small woman with delicate features; small round nose, oval shaped pale green eyes, with ruby red puffy lips. Her face looked like she wore some kind of powder, because I could see the faint color of her freckles under it but she was without doubt a beautiful woman, until she opened her mouth a second time.

“I am Inara, Mistress of Castle Montclair, second highest in London.”

“Yeah, well you're nothing here, so the first name is all ya get,” I said, stepping out, pulling the wig off my head, letting my braid fall down the front of my dress.

“You must be the one my Bernard has told me so much about,” she replied, putting far too much emphasis on the last word.

“And your point is?” I raised my right brow and stepped right up to her. “We don’t have all night. Can’t you see we're getting ready for a party?”

“I do, and that is why I am here; that, and to see my Alex with my own eyes. If he is dead and I do not return in one hour…this house will fall.”

I grabbed her around the throat and back walked her right into the door that Sydney had swung closed behind her. “Don’t you ever step in my home and threaten me or my family.” Her eyes were wide with shock, thinking the announcement of her name would have been enough. I yanked her head to the side and sank my fangs in as she started screaming. Jacob grabbed me by the shoulders and I fought him, drinking her blood, letting her know who was running this particular show. I pulled my head back and she grabbed her own neck. “Let ‘em come lady…haven’t you heard? We love a good fight.” I growled as close to her face as Jacob’s hands on my arms would allow. She had said the wrong thing and pissed me off.